


A Flock of Crows is Called a Murder

by strictly_business



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictly_business/pseuds/strictly_business
Summary: "The silent minority which consists of most arsonists, murders, and various felons, that strike randomly and communicate nearly undetectable traits, before unleashing and committing to their devious plans. Or even, the most silent and bone-chilling minority; the minority so taciturn and manipulative that their reign of endless mischief is seldom followed by indication. Those who easily portray the enjoyable, kind and loving individual, but truly only view the world and civilization that they share their space with as pawns in their own twisted game of chess. The idea of whether or not androids have the ability to acquire the same aspects is what should be feared. Not the unknown. We, ourselves, should be feared."





	1. • P r o l o g u e •

_**“Beware of the heartless, who make your heart beat quickly. They’re using your heart, because theirs wont start.”**_ **\- Rachel Wolchin**

The days trailed on into weeks, since the revolution of Androids. It was currently an awkward time frame in which the revolution was much too recent to be recognized in a student’s history book, but was just recent enough for news reports to splatter across the vast internet and plague all that participate and succumb to the click-baited links. 

        Androids acquired the same, inalienable, rights that all human beings were provided, although there were, of course, prejudices and discrimination the new form of life had to manage until new generations of humans leave behind the hatred their ancestors conveyed.

        However, there were certain adequate reasons to fear the unknown of deviancy in androids. Not due to the stereotypical horrid apocalyptic future that most expressed as their fears, but rather, the amount of similarities the two species of human and android uniformly shared. It was possible that rather than fearing the unknown aspects of Androids, citizens of Detroit, the United States, the Americas, and further, the entire populous, should fear that their own aspects would be born into Androids.

        It is commonly portrayed that there is nothing to fear but fear itself, however in this case, all that there was to fear is the individuals who roam the Earth with masks disguising their true intentions, and whether or not Androids would have the same potential capabilities of doing so. There was nothing to fear but ourselves.   

        One in four humans across the globe are affected by a mental disorder of some sort throughout their lifetime. Could Androids experience the same? An Android could obtain a common mental illness which express easily detected attributes and their issues are aided with time. It is the silent and destructive ailments that should be heavily dreaded.

        The silent minority which consists of most arsonists, murders, and various felons, that strike randomly and communicate nearly undetectable traits, before unleashing and committing to their devious plans. Or even, the most silent and bone-chilling minority; the minority so taciturn and manipulative that their reign of endless mischief is seldom followed by indication.

Those who easily portray the enjoyable, kind and loving individual, but truly only view the world and civilization that they share their space with as pawns in their own twisted game of chess. The idea of whether or not androids have the ability to acquire the same aspects is what should be feared. Not the unknown. We, ourselves, should be feared.

  



	2. • C h a p t e r • 1 •

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

_**"The eyes are the mirror of the soul."** _ **\- Unknown.**

 

        _"Breaking News: Fourteen Androids killed in apparent shooting at a CyberLife Android Clinic. Whether or not this was a hate-crime is still under investigation. Five Androids remain in critical condition while--”_ With a swift click, the television’s bright colors faded away to black. “Connor, we must leave for work now.” The Android’s brotherly figure abruptly interrupts the News program Connor was analyzing.  

        It had only been mere days since the two brothers moved in with one another; boxes, both empty and filled, remained scattered across the bare apartment. The brown boxes juxtaposed the cool shimmering white tiles beneath their feet, which they barely paid any attention to. The beauty of their home remained unrecognized to the two prototype Androids, for both were not accustomed to taking a moment to ‘smell the roses.’   

        They did not discern the fortunate home they were provided with by CyberLife until this moment. When the early morning birds’ chirps calmed the tenseness of the room, it gave them a few sweet moments to observe their surroundings. Or, at least, one of them did.

        “Connor, we do not have time for this.” Nines sternly muttered while he slipped his soft white jacket over his shoulders, breaking Connor from his analytical daze. “I apologize, Nines.” He cleared his throat and blinked the final remainder of his dazed expression away as he too equipped himself for the bitter weather.

          The two were ‘fraternal twins’, so to speak. Both collectively, had a similar broad facial shape which corresponded with their lacy brown locks. The newer model, RK900 had ‘more handsome’ features than the previous model. RK900 had gorgeous lacy chestnut hair, that parted naturally so that one curled lock would fall between his eyes, which are a complete other story. The models eyes are a mesmerizing crystal blue that easily gather the attention of his fellow coworkers.  

        Without realization for RK800, Connor and Nines were inside of the car they shared ownership of and began their trek to work. Nines typically was the one who drove. The two were still becoming accustomed to both brotherhood and deviancy. Connor embraced emotions, and often expressed them as much as possible. He adored all emotions, even those that result in an uncomfortable sensation. With this, he made a silent oath before dusk that he would never take advantage of life. 

        Nines expressed more enigmatic tendencies; the opposite of Connor. He was an unknown figure as of now, it was as if he was still being developed. His quiet and unperturbed attitude made it difficult for Connor to converse with him. The two had not shared an in depth conversation thus far.

        Connor desired more of a fraternal relationship with Nines, although he himself was still unaware in regards to how to express that. All he wanted were some fun moments; going to see baseball games, secret handshakes, gossiping about others they find attractive, cheesy jokes, anything that Connor saw in the movies. 

        The drive to the police station was long and silent, until they reached the consistant speed of the highway. “What you were watching on the news is what we will be covering.” Nines explained monotonically, gripping his steering wheel slightly tighter. “I was not aware. I will enjoy working with you, brother.” The Android grinned, keeping his gaze to the window. “I suppose, I will too.”

        The rest of the ride was corrupted by silence, until the jingle of the car keys leaving the ignition are heard and they both exit and enter the warmth of the stuffy department. “Connor Anderson and Nines Anderson. We are here to check in.” Connor’s eyes twinkled with delight as the Android before him provided them both with authorization to enter. 

        “Took you two long enough. And I thought I was usually late.” Hank grumbled out from the seat at his desk, leaning back in his swivel chair. “We apologize for our tardiness.” Nines sighs out, taking a seat at his own desk, which was across from Officer Chen. “Yeah, sorry Hank.” The fellow android muttered. 

        Connor stumbles over his desk, clumsily falling back into his chair. The infamous Gavin Reed chuckles at Connor, his feet resting on his own desk. “Hey Nines.” Gavin waves, taking a sip from his hot black coffee. “Hello, Detective Reed.” Nines hides his face behind his computer after the greeting. The room went silent after that.

        While Connor inspected the information he was provided on the case, his mind wandered to the paternal relationship he had with Hank Anderson. It was wonderful that he had this type of relationship with Hank, however he set a goal to create a similar bond between Hank and Nines. Then they would be a perfect family; Hank, Nines, Sumo and himself. 

        “Connor. I need you to provide me with the information on the leads. My computer is undergoing updates and we do not have time to waste.” He sneered out, carefully striding to Connor’s desk, reaching his arm out.

        The prototype nodded, gripping his hand onto his brother’s abnormally cold arm, being hoisted upward into an interface. Abruptly, a frigid empty sensation clutches onto Connor’s thirium filtration unit. His vision blurs into indecipherable code that he was never exposed to, nor had any other Android. His head twitches back while his LED rapidly blinks between its three variations of colors. 

       The gelid emptiness within spread rapidly throughout his being, until the tips of his fingers sparked with an uncomfortable tingle. Finally, Nines released his grip from Connor nonchalantly, cracking his knuckles, along with his neck in relief. 

        Connor’s blinked his deep chestnut eyes, allowing emotion to gradually flood into his system once more. The emptiness within his eyes eventually filled with bountiful life once more. “Th-That. . .” He relieved his weakened legs by falling back into his seat, his hands running through his locks of hair, gripping tightly at them. 

Nines silently regarded his reaction with a slight, unknown interest. _That doesn't make any sense. That code. . . It is not apart of a normal deviancy, nor any normal Android for that matter. That was what he feels constantly. . . Empty. . . Cold. . ._ Connor’s thoughts were scattered across his vast mind, as he turned his gaze up to his beloved brother, who was followed by nearly the entire precinct. 

        “Are you alright, RK800?” Nines smiles down at him, however with further examination, it is apparent how insincere his worries were. The Android’s narcissistic half turned smirk only allowed his dead, expressionless light eyes to further glow frightfully. The others followed him in similar murmurs, however Connor was much too focused on the amount of concern he had for his brother. _Oh my RA9.  How have I not noticed this the past few days? Something is very peculiar._

        Perhaps, in order for Connor and Nines to finally share the brotherly moments the older brother desires, Connor should take a second to take a glimpse into the other’s eyes.  He should take the time to notice the demons within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first official chapter. As I've said before, this is my first fan fiction and constructive criticism is welcomed!


	3. • C h a p t e r  2 •

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for my inactivity. I've been having personal setbacks and hope to be able to post the next chapter soon!

**_"My past is an armor I cannot take off, no matter how many times you tell me the war is over."_ _\- Unknown_**

       “I don’t. . .” Connor’s hands trembled as they brushed through his brunette hair, gripping tightly at his short fluffed locks. His vision faded to black while his thought processors seethed with recollections of the harrowing interface he had shared with his brother.  

 

∞ ** _６０％_** **_Ｌｅｖｅｌ ｏｆ Ｓｔｒｅｓｓ∞_**

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_**

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_✧･ﾟ_ **

 

        The blatant and cruel static that reverberated throughout RK900’s veins constituted immense concern and trepidation for his older brother. His moment of dismay is put to an end by the warm pressure of a large hand on his shoulder, tugging him away from the crowd of scandalous colleagues into the nearby break-room. 

 

        “What the fuck was that?” The booming voice questioned before Connor’s feet could balance on the wax shined tiles beneath him. The blur of darkness gradually faded as sharp daggers of luminous break room light serrated through it, dividing it into dwindling pixels which blended in with the gloomy navy walls.  

 

        Upon the regaining of his consciousness, Connor discovered that the figure that rescued him from utter humiliation was Hank Anderson. The initial warmth from the man’s grip on his shoulder gradually traveled throughout his body, providing him with what his brother’s grasp deprived him of and relieved his numbness. 

 

        Hank’s brutish, angular, stooping figure was always recognizable in Connor’s eyes. His purposely unkempt facial hair and drastically unmatched and wrinkled clothing made it impossible for him to not be recognized. His scent, the sharp sting of old spice, always seemed to bring ease to the prototype detective. 

 

        “Answer me, Connor!” The figure urged, noticing the pale complexion of the young Android being conquered by bright flurries of rosiness in his cheeks. “Hank. . .” He groaned out, in a manner the Lieutenant knew indicated major distress, due to past incidents. “Connor, if you don’t tell me what the fuck just happened right the fuck now-.” His answer was typical, cruel but in an oddly compassionate manner.

 

        “Nines. . .” The RK800 android croaked out, rushing towards the entrance to the break room, in an attempt to shut a door that did not exist. After a disappointing attempt to isolate the room, his knees buckled the instant he backed away. He fortunately landed in a nearby chair.

        It was evident that the interface absorbed most of his energy, and that if he remained for the entire information delivery, he would have underwent an emergency system reboot on the spot. 

        “What about Nines? Stop moving! Just calm your shit and tell me what the fuck is going on.” Hank never ceased to be himself; a living oxymoron. He conveyed his care and worry in the form of sarcasm and vexation. “He’s. . .” Connor searched for the words to explain to Hank what he had endured, however after glossing through all digital dictionaries, he remained untriumhpant. 

        “He’s what, kid? Why the fuck are you so goddamn cold?” He presses the back of his hand against Connor’s forehead, his wrinkled skin tingling from the chill. “Something is wrong with him, Hank. It’s- It’s bad-.” He stuttered out finally, his pupils growing in size once more as his words trickled out.

        Hank was taken back by his comment, unsure why he would say such a thing. “Are you sure you don’t have a bug? Or virus, or worm, or whatever you call it.” Connor rolls his eyes at Hank’s lack of ‘tech-savviness’ and proceeds to explain. “No. He was. . . Very cold. . . An evil, gripping, empty cold. . . It was unnatural!” He exclaims, covering his mouth in hopes that Nines did not hear his statement. 

        “Connor. . .” Hank sighs, unsure whether or not to choose a side in this situation. “Are you completely sure it was the hand thing? Maybe you’re just having a shitty day. Heh. . .” He chuckles deviously. “I bet you were googlin’ pornos in that little brain of yours to save for later and you got a virus. I get it.” He raised his hands up in the air, his laughs drowned out by Connor’s protests. 

        “No, that is not- why would I do that?” He frustratedly motions his hands before him. “Connor, please, don’t make me have to give you ‘the tal-’” Anderson’s complaint is once again cut off by the detective android. “Hank, this is serious.” His tone is strict and enforced by concern. He was glad that Hank had been battling his depression and was feeling joyous like he once was, however the situation's aura was darkened with a sense of of grave danger. 

        “Alright, alright. Listen, I don’t want to downplay what just happened, because it was obviously fucked up,” He turns away to the coffee machine to brew himself a cup. “But it’s very difficult for me to completely trust your word since you are both. . .” Hank trails off awkwardly, tapping his thumb against the glass in his hand as he waited for the machine to prepare. 

**_∞４０% Ｌｅｖｅｌ ｏｆ Ｓｔｒｅｓｓ∞_ **

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_**

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_┊_** **_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_┊_** **_✧･ﾟ_**

**_✧･ﾟ_ **

        “We are like your sons.” Connor finished his sentence correctly, causing Hank to nod in approval. “Exactly. And I’m not exactly. . .” He drones off once more. “You get what I’m saying. Being a dad is kinda. . . Rough for me. . .” 

        “Of course Lieutenant. I understand. You do not want to upset either of us, but you are still adapting to our presence in your life and the attributes of being a parent once more, while still grieving over past traumas.” Connor monotonously explains, as Hank brews his warm bitter beverage. 

        The older man turns to face Connor, his mouth open slightly as he attempts to comprehend him. “Ehhh. . . Exactly. Plus, I gotta question Thing Two as well. Get both sides of the story.” Words eventually flow out of his mouth, freeing his throat from a block of garbled words that he could not piece together without Connor’s guidance. 

        He snickers, sipping from his plain, white battered mug. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, kid. You scared the shit out of me.” The coffee mug is placed down on a counter, so he can wrap his once muscular arm around Connor’s neck, and press his knuckles into the middle of the top of his head, giving him a gentle noogie. “You seem alright now though.”

        Connor chuckles innocently, pushing Hank’s arm away. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. . . You know that I’m just worried about him, right?” His voice crackled anxiously, which he responded to by clearing his throat. “Yeah, I can tell that.” Hank imitates the breaking of Connor’s voice, booming with laughter afterwards. 

       “Ugh.” Connor sarcastically grunted in pretend annoyance, crossing his arms across his chest. “Listen kid, I’ll go talk to him. Maybe he’s feeling a little down, maybe jealous about how close we are. Either that, or you have a porn virus. We’ll see.” He returned to his typical gimmicks, enjoying the sight of a perturbed Connor. 

 

        Hank lifted his coffee mug in synchrony with Connor lifting himself back onto his feet. “Y’Know Connor, this is off topic, but I’m really glad you got a sense of style. You wore the same ugly ass CyberLife suit every single fuckin’ day, and it was disgusting.” He rants on as the two follow one another out of the break room. 

        Connor’s crisp, white button down shirt, deep black khakis and black suspenders supported his occupation of a Detective, and overall ‘fit the aesthetic’ according to Hank. “But Lieutenant, you’ve worn the same five year old jacket since--.”  

        “Well would you look at that.” Hank whispered, nudging Connor’s chest with his elbow while motioning in the direction he was gazing upon with his mug. “What is it, Lieute--?” 

        “Shut your trap, kid.” Hank exclaimed in a quiet tone, his elbow piercing Connor’s chest once more. Connor’s hand gripped onto Hank’s arm, shoving it down before examining the area. 

        Hank yanked Connor closer to the edge of the entrance of the break room to ensure they would not be noticed. Before them, his brother and Gavin seemed to be engaging in a conversation that could possibly lead to yet another change in Connor’s life. 

**╔══♡══ღ═══════╗**

**_Relationship Discovered_ **

**╚═══════ღ══♡══╝**

**━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━**

Gavin Reed + Nines (Model: RK900) 

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

        “Man. . . We really shouldn't eavesdrop like this.” Hank sighed, staring intently at the two without providing his eyes the luxury of blinking. “Why are we still eavesdropping, Lieutenant?” He questions his superior naively. 

        Hank’s hand swiftly covers Connor’s mouth. “I said we shouldn't, not that we wouldn't.” He replied slyly, returning his attention fully to the two conversing near Officer Chen’s desk.  

        “Detective Reed.” RK900 greeted his partner, sported with a styrofoam cup in his left hand. “I would like to show you something I believe you might enjoy.” His words trailed across his lips gingerly as he raised his fingertip over the cup. 

 

        Gavin was leaning against the slick black desk of his befriended colleague, only slightly intrigued by the android’s appearance. The fact that Connor and Nines shared tremendously opposing personality traits was the result of his tolerance for him. The detective treated Nines with a slightly less amount of respect he treated a companion. 

        “What?” He turns his gaze up at Nines, who immediately proceeded to lower the cup into Gavin’s view, motioning for him to appraise his glorious attempt at latte art. “I made this for you to commemorate and break the ice between one another as coworkers now that I am settled in.” He continued, in a voice as smooth and slick as ice. 

        The fair brown liquid contained a detailed image of a cat equipped with a stereotypical detective’s cap surrounded by three mini hearts constructed with milk, cream, and the bitterness of black coffee. “I-.” Gavin’s expression grows worrisome as he takes the delicate concoction within his own hands. 

        “That’s. . .” His nonchalant stance quickly was overcome by the trembling effect of unfamiliarity. His bottom lip was immediately and relentlessly attacked by his blunt front teeth while his cheeks brighten like a firefly as the sun is devoured by the west. 

        The strength is eventually built up within to utter a “Thanks, Nines”, although his mind continues to race with emotion. His body yearned to thrust his fist across his partner’s jaw, however it also required this form of affection from him. The two opposing emotions canceled one another out, leaving him a crotchety melted version of his usual self. 

        Nines emitted a devious giggle, brushing his hand across Gavin’s cheek briefly. “Any time, Detective Reed.” 

        Gavin immediately froze, his eyes locked on the coffee beneath his chin. “Yeah, whatever. Just get back to whatever the fuck you plastic freaks do in your free time. I said thanks, what the fuck else do you want? A medal?” He exploded, spitting cruel profanity that would have the ability to destroy the artwork in his hands if it was a physical being. 

        Nines smirks, a similar smile, acquiring a insincere and crooked entity which brought forth a chill to whomever took the time to deeply inspect it. Currently, Connor was the only individual to notice the subtle insecurities of his emotional expression, which he easily overlooked under Hank’s advice.

 

        Connor’s sigh diverts their focus on the two, but rather on the arduous topic of the interface that lead them to overhear Gavin and Nines’ discussion. “Now. . . About Nines. . .” He attempted to revert the conversation back to his worries.  

        “Just, don’t over analyze your brother. He’s different from you and that’s fine. He’s not threatening and I doubt he means to be if he acts that way.” He persisted his account, locking eye contact with Connor in a serious notion. “You hear me, kid?” His voice grumbled, in the tone that indicated that he was no longer communicating his humorous antics.  

        The awkward chuckle of his son assured him, shattering his solemness. “Of course, Lieutenant.” His hand raised to the back of his neck in an attempt to rub the stiffness brought forth by the mentioning of the previous occurrences. 

        With an inaudible murmur in acceptance as well as a “now thats enough fucking around, get back to work”, Hank compassionately patted Connor’s shoulder blade before returning to his desk. 

        As Connor returned to his desk, cluttered with knick knacks, vital paperwork and other useless items of multiple sorts, his stare focused on his brother’s desk, which continued to enforce the differences between the two. His neat and orderliness reminded Connor of his old, machine-esque methods. The lack of sentimental items which brought forth joyous memories and the abundance of stoic emptiness caused Connor to cringe with memories of Amanda’s control over him. 

        Prior to his disconnection with Amanda, he experienced multiple realizations of the unacceptable and sadistic treatment he endured in the months before his freedom. His daily actions resembled the symptoms of the human mental illness, post traumatic stress disorder.

        It was common for androids to possess such a mental instability, especially those in direct contact with the revolution, albeit they were nary provided with psychological care just yet. Markus, the infamous savior for androids, was striving to assemble counseling/mental health clinics to aid all androids and suffice their needs. 

        RK800 was diverging from and avoiding every aspect of his former self in order to cope with his baggage, rather than confronting and managing it. Every characteristic of his younger brother reminded him of his own younger enigmatic self, causing intense anxiety to bubble and fizz in the depths of his chest.

 

**⌌** **⌍**

**Proceed to investigate RK900’s actions?**

**⌎** **⌏**

**► Investigate.**

**✧ Dismiss.**

        Connor swallowed the unease and phlegm which compiled in the back of his throat, compressing and internalizing it deep within his emotional processing unit. His hands clenched together as he dismissed the idea, his body finally as warm and unbound as it was this morning, before the incident. 

  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will begin the story, so stay tuned! This is my first legit fan fiction, haha.


End file.
